The Pooh Bear Project

Santa knows that no child is really "naughty", that every single one is a blessing sent to walk along side a Mom or Dad for a few years and then take wing on their own. I love the innocence of their little eyes looking deep into Santa's eyes. Sometimes they are too bashful to even look at Santa, hiding their face on their shoulder or perhaps on Mama or Daddy's shoulder.

But their eyes look deep and are full of love and trust. Sure, some are dressed to the nines while others have frayed cuffs and may even be soiled. Santa sees beyond all that. He also sees the joy and pride in the faces of Moms and Dads, Grandpas and Grandmas that wait, camera ready for that smile.

Oh, how Santa wishes he could sit with each little one as long as they wanted to talk with him. He would love to reach into his big red bag and pull out just what the little ones asked for as their Mama waited in the disheveled, soiled garments, tennis shoes torn and strings broken. His heart breaks when they ask for gifts that he knows most likely won't be under the tree.

Here is what Santa knows... little ones like those don't ask for I-pods or Lala Loopsey. Transformers or Nerf guns aren't on their list. Not one request from them for an American Girl doll. They ask for clothes, shoes or as one little one asked, "maybe just a toy". Just A toy. 

Last of all, Santa wishes you could have sat in the big chair last night when a young teenaged girl sat down, told her parents to "shoo, go away so I can talk to Santa"

Did she want make up, pierced ears, a car or was she swooning over some boy???

No, she told Santa she was a "Mom's helper" and the Mom she babysits for has a husband in Kuwait. (At first she said Quebec. Santa chuckled and asked if she meant Kuwait. Yes, that was it.)

There has been some trouble and fighting nearby and she asked Santa to try to help get him home soon without injury so he could be with his children and wife.

Santa talked with her for a while, reminded her that he sometimes could just hope and pray as she was doing... and he promised to do so.

Then Santa asked what she might want for Christmas. Her reply? "Nothing for me. Just that."

Tugs at the heart, doesn't it?

Here is a Postscript:

I was that skinny little boy you see in the library with the big glasses, hair that never is in place and a stack of books that you wonder if he really read.  The answer, of course, is "Yes! He really did read them all!"

I was also the little boy who carried his teddy bear everywhere.  It was no surprise that when I had a little girl she had a "Pooh Bear" that went everywhere.  There she always was beside her Daddy (a single parent who had her at least half the time and often more than his half) like Peter Pan's shadow, a little independent but always at my side.  Thumb in her mouth and Pooh Bear hugged close.  The three of us had so very many adventures.  This Daddy searched for Pooh Bear when he was lost more than once.

Then when she was four she saw a woman making bears at a festival.  This is the same little girl who insisted her Daddy learn to French Braid, to buy her frilly socks and "foo foo" dresses, who ONLY wore dresses and NEVER pants or even shorts.  This little girl apparently thought her Daddy could do everything.  So, she asked me to make her a bear.

The first one was hideous.  A pattern from a teddy bear magazine and cheap brown fur from a fabric shop.  She wasn't sure it was a bear!  Her Daddy has one of them there "A Personalities" and was not satisfied.  I could not let my girl down.  Wonderful ladies at a specialty sewing and craft store sold me patterns, lovely furs, glass eyes, gave me advice and encouraged me.

I made several bears for her, made one for a nephew sick with leukemia, others for the children of friends.  Eventually I began to go to shows and festivals dressed in "toymaker" garb with leather apron and made bears ALL BY HAND out of mohair, German glass eyes and other amazing things.  Lovely folks bought the bears and paid hundreds of dollars for some of my custom bears!  I even made some out of vintage minks owned by the mother of a friend.  (No wonder I put on the red suit years later to become THE toymaker Santa!)

You see, I have always believed that a teddy bear in the arms of a little one is a "GOOD THING".  My Teddy Bear saw me through trying times.  Pooh Bear was my daughter 's constant companion.

As I laid in bed over the weekend I talked with Oh My Darlin' again and again about the children I have seen through Santa visits over the past several years and those I remember from my days in the ministry in Appalachia, my time with United Way in Ohio.  As I mentioned in the story above, I just wanted to be able to reach into Santa's bag and find something more than the little jingle bell I give each child.

As I lay awake I thought so many times lately, "If only I had a Pooh Bear to give to that little boy or girl".  That would be a GOOD THING to give them a bear of their very own.

Last night I suggested to Oh My Darlin' that I start "The Pooh Bear Project".  Not a big non-profit, but just me and her to start, maybe ask a few friends to help buy some bears.  Not a little, tacky, goofy looking bear, but a bear that a child can hold and hug.   A bear that can stand watch over the long nights when Daddy is in Kuwait, or Mama is working.

I told her I want to always have a box or bag in my car with bears that I can quickly place in the outstretched arms of a little one hungry for love.  That is all I want to do, give them a bear and walk away.

There are a number of places I can buy nice sized bears wholesale for about $4 including shipping.  I spend more than that some weeks on sweet tea from McDonalds!  Twenty bucks a month isn't much out of my pocket and I can give away 5 bears monthly, sixty a year.  I am going to talk to a few friends and see if they will help.  I would love to be able to have 100, 200 or perhaps 300 bears to give away as Santa next year.  That is The Pooh Bear Project.

It may not seem like much to you.  It is not as important as food, health care, education, clean clothes, I know.  We already give to programs that do those things.

I just know I ache inside when a little boy or girl four or five years old, dressed in hand me down clothes looks Santa in the eye and asks for a toy... just a toy.  I dream of reaching into a box or bag and pulling out THEIR Pooh Bear.